


It's War

by Blaiser



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaiser/pseuds/Blaiser
Summary: I really enjoyed this season as a whole - so many great performances and characters to chose from! So many funny lines and so many horrible, heartbreaking fates. I find the character of Rabbi Mulligan especially drawing along with the character of Constant Calamita. I want to see more of these two interacting with each other. I've read a few fanfics on here dedicated to these two characters and they were all great in my opinion and I do find myself drawing inspiration from these.This particular story is set during season 4 episode 3. Rabbi is not fortunate in any way, and Calamita is somewhat of a sadistic fucker. The story will contain rape/non-con in the next chapter (or chapters) so be warned.I'm not a native English speaker and I havn't written for a long-ass while. My mind is pretty intoxicated and fucked up. I do apologize in advance.
Relationships: Constant Calamita/Rabbi Milligan
Kudos: 5





	It's War

To the sound of squealing tires, the car with Calamita’s intended target, Lemuel Cannon and the other black man accompanying him and the two newly acquired bullet holes, speeds away, leaving Rabbi and Calamita alone at an otherwise deserted intersection.

“STOP!!! I won’t ask twice.” Rabbi pulls the hammer back and points his revolver between Calamita’s eyes, putting an abrupt end to the scuffle between them.

The lean Italian looks dumbfounded at first, then his facial expression changes into one promising vengeance.

“You’re dead, _you Irish fuck_.” Calamita bares his teeth in a snarl.

“Maybe.” Rabbi sneers back. 

“Or maybe I’ll tell Josto his brother’s giving orders like he’s boss and you’re taking ‘em. And then maybe it’s _you_ pushing daisies.

Calamita’s eyes fills with fear at the sudden realization that Rabbi’s threat is perhaps not hollow at all, that Josto, the man he has sworn allegiance to, the man he has known for over half his life might very well have him killed for siding with Gaetano.

For a second the only sound that can be heard in the car is the two men breathing heavily then Rabbi disarms Calamita by pulling the still warm gun from under his hand which Calamita lets him do.

Rabbi collects the two guns, holding them both in one hand against his chest and shots the Italian one last glare before turning towards the passenger door.

“I’ll walk home.”

Rabbi’s hand is on the handle when he feels the unmistakable sensation of cold metal pressed hard against his jugular and cussing himself out for letting his guard down around a man he knows cannot be trusted.

“You no going anywhere, you little Irish cunt.” Calamita’s breath is hot against his ear, his English more broken than usual. He presses the blade harder against Rabbi’s throat, cutting slightly into the skin there.

Slowly, Rabbi lets go of the handle and lets his free hand hover in the air as a sign of surrender. Calamita reaches over and pulls both guns from Rabbi’s grasp, then rolls the window down and throws Rabbi’s gun onto the street.

In the same instant as he removes the knife from Rabbi’s throat, Calamita places the still searing muzzle of his gun gun against Rabbi’s temple instead.

“Like I say: _dead_.”

He pulls the hammer back with an audible _click_.

Rabbi closes his eyes, waiting for the scolding heat, then the pain and eternal, gruesome darkness he is sure will follow.

A few seconds passes then Calamita’s grinning voice fills the car.

“You think, I let you go that easy? _Bastardo_ …you will pay for this.”

He lets the gun's muzzle travel down Rabbi’s cheek and Rabbi gives a slight snort as the hot metal comes to rest against the side of his mouth.

Entertained by the obvious repressed anger of his hostage, Calamita leans in close, his voice drops to a low, threatening purr.

“Get out the car...very still. We change seats and you will drive us out of town. Do it now.”


End file.
